"spectate" poems
every time we fall in love,
they call it trite,
a false fairy tale.
love is weak.
and weak ain't trending no more.
every time we speak our mind,
they tell us to shut up,
too young to have an opinion.
the youth is unreliable,
too many fresh hormones.
every time we stand up straight,
they cross us,
crucify us.
acquiescing is appropriate,
they gift certificates in frames for that.
every time we subscribe to a higher code of ethics,
they call us radical,
salivate, and spectate as we are torn asunder by lions.
love should never transcend national pride,
here it's guns, god, no homosexuals or mexicans all the time.
if i make a stand, and you make a stand,
and the dominoes begin to fall,
if i inspire a dozen, and you inspire a thousand,
the gears will grind, the tide will turn,
the lions will all be too full,
and
they surely will run out of nails,
before they've crossed every single one of us.
Jun 25, 2010
Jun 25, 2010 at 9:26 PM UTC
superhero holding friendship
I admire, I spectate , I watch and learn and notes I take
On a thunderous beauty, on this breath taking sight
Quivering breath at a mountains height
Those close around I fear they might drown
Terrified of what’s making change
Terror stricken, I flip through pages
that would never be re-written, never changed
I’m waiting for struggle, for flailing arm
for loneliness , peoples pulling up guards
Fences that we build and view as our shields
Just a horrible thing ,that wont let me in
Misunderstanding transforming
Now it’s a black mask of confusion, dooming
I panic at thought spinning around
Head is to full ,I feel for the ground
Darkness threatening my light life
I gasp for friendship and understanding
Then you flew in with a quiet landing
Tiptoeing around you lift me off the damp dirt
Wiping the darkness of my clean world
A new view of refuge, I need and needed you
Just a boy with good intention
Transformed into a superhero holding friendship.
Together walking side by side
we sort through what’s wrong and right
We plan a way to save the drowning
Climb fences and break through walls
Tear down others guards
I walk a walk , no longer alone in the dark.
I have you.thank all that is good
We stand were I stood
I love you
Feb 3, 2012
Feb 3, 2012 at 5:36 PM UTC
A poem should be read aloud
whether to one’s self or to a crowd
It’s meaning lies in being heard
and not the shape of every word
Lest it become calligraphy
hung on the wall for all to see
But poems seen do seldom touch
when compared to one read out as such
For intonation, pace and rhyme
are all heard within the poets mind
As pen commits the words to page
the actors banished from the stage
To reappear when words meet sound
and raise the poem from the ground
To sail on high with majesty
extolling sorrow, mirth or glee
Bring forth emotions penned in ink
and take the reader to the brink
To place you there midst poems tale
for to spectate means poets fail
So stand up son and stand up proud
whilst you read these lines out loud
Feel the smile upon your face
or seen on others your voice did grace
For had you kept this to yourself
might just as well have stayed on the shelf
But bringing voice to wiser words
allows its message to be heard
A message know by self or crowd
that poems should be read aloud
Oct 19, 2010
Oct 19, 2010 at 2:30 PM UTC
I feel the whispers of the Mistress
And the smooth hands of the Mister
The gentle embrace of the beautiful He
And the masculine lips of the handsome She
Four lovers whom fill my heart
Different genders
I shall never care
I shall never care about skin color, gender identification, or hair
Religion, region, since when did it all matter
I'll just love who I love because of their beautiful personality and wonderful attributes.
I could care less if I go to hell
I'd do it for these beautiful people
I'll kiss who I want to kiss
Hug who I want to hug
**** who I want to ****
Touch who I want to touch
I'll be as close or as much of a stranger to whoever I please
Because it is my life
Not a phony god's, not my parents', not yours
It is mine
I love the smell of her floral scented hair
I love the warm feeling of snuggling with him
I love the sweet words of she who wants to be a he
And the fun times with he who wants to be a she
All the beautiful friends, lovers, and family I have
Why can't they be free
To love who they want to
And same goes for me
I want to be able to hold and marry and kiss my future lover
Just let us love
It is not your life to control
Or to judge
Or to spectate
We are made of the same red blood as you
Eat the same food
Dress the same dress
We are all normal people like you
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 2:34 PM UTC
Bling Bang Boom
Tight little itty-bitty *****
If it don't fit, don't force it
You can lubricate it, so you can appreciate it
Oops, did I say that out loud?
Wearing Dr Dre is a ***** when you make a glitch
**** this gun like a real cool chick
It's barrels aren’t that hot or that ******* thick
And when it comes, blow your brains, while you’re still in cuffs
Elvis offended nerds, while doing those pelvic thrusts
But, he was merely having fun and just being ******* futuristic
While your parents were secretly playing with ***** vibrating plastic
I used to call myself at that time, ‘The Magnificent One’
Hell, I don't call myself that now, but I still believe it to be true
At the time, the frigid white kids would only spectate from the lower balcony
While some ***** white kinds, were leaping over with jealousy, to get downstairs
Because, that's where the black dudes would occasionally perform, their ****** affairs
Bling Bang Boom
Tight little itty-bitty *****
Protect yourself with a little soap bubble
If you want help, I can go pop, without getting into too much trouble
Oops, did I say that out loud?
Wearing Dr Dre can mean defeat when others hear your beat
How can I put the creeps down, when I've been creeping from afar?
I'm another mother fuckin' world wide pop star
They called me, ‘A Hip-Hop Bipolar Southpaw’
Always left swinging up and down like a friggin outlaw
They warned you that, I would drive all the the kiddies insane
So don't blame me for the way your kids now truly reign
Bling Bang Boom
Tight little itty-bitty *****
Thank you for being so sweet and ever so cute
Next time remind me, to always switch the ****** to mute
Oops, did I say that out loud?
Sep 5, 2019
Sep 5, 2019 at 6:37 PM UTC
I guess we were bored,
Or looking for something new.
And there was a party coming up.
Someone's hosting debut.
So we thought we'd ask around,
See what else was to do.
And our **** dealer told us
He sold other things too.
He nicknamed it dizz,
And it sounded quite fun.
So we talked all about it,
Decided to get some.
We all pitched in,
Asked for five or ten pounds.
And went and collected it;
Tin foil bound.
Accompanying us
Was a sober mate.
He said it would be fun
To watch and spectate.
So we unwrapped it,
Crushed it,
Poured it,
And drank it.
The taste was disgusting,
Of abstract chemicals.
But we swallowed it down,
A moment; seminal.
They said twenty minutes,
So we sat and waited.
Our hearts were pumping
Way before eight.
And we went downstairs,
Sat on a sofa,
Biding our time,
Sipping on cola...
And there.
What was that.
A feeling.
It entered the chat.
Some warmth,
No stress.
And then a
Very deep breath
Of fresh air
And emotion.
Like emerging from the bottom
Of a very deep ocean
You had been down for years.
Reggae was playing
At very high volume.
And none wanted staying
Where we were.
So we got up keen,
And started dancing.
One even went on the wet trampoline
And bounced
Up, down,
Up, down,
Could've gone till sundown.
And the sky was gorgeous;
Metallic, steel blue
Mixed with orange and yellow.
It was quite the view.
But time was
Moving on,
So we packed up,
And were almost gone
Before keys jangled,
And the door swung open.
A parent walked in,
And caused a commotion
Of boys rushing out,
Mumbling words and plans.
We left quite abruptly,
And sprinted and ran.
Once round the corner,
We couldn't care less.
Nonchalant as usual,
We enjoyed the success.
And we walked and talked
About pure, utter, *****
The iPhone X, some girls,
And the absolute banger that would be tonight.
So we strolled around,
The sun on our faces,
Feeling elated.
Going some places.
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 7:01 PM UTC
He stands back,
He lets the fire burn.
Understanding why each spark was lit.
Speaks his words fairly,
Truthfully with no bias.
He alone determines good from bad.
You can't understand him,
He doesn't understand himself.
He might tempt you but don't expect him to take.
Seeing it all at once,
Yet knows how each piece works.
A man who likes to spectate.
He is looking at you now.
You look so happy.
He smiles.
Nov 30, 2012
Nov 30, 2012 at 6:45 AM UTC
**We are a dangerous lot
We play a dangerous game
We know this…. But keep at it all the same
We are wild, not tame
We roam this vast, wild, sometimes friendly… sometimes unfriendly… plain
This sun scorched wilderness, this rough terrain
We get to carry a burden, such a heavy load
To work our way up the food chain
Life is a ragged road
To stand up and face a predator
While still preying on vulnerable prey
This is how it is, the law of the jungle
This line doesn’t belong here right? Still... I should probably end it with something that rhymes, like ‘pray’
The law of the strong
The jaw that can snap a neck bone
The claw of the jungle
The dominant ones have their way… it’s quite clear
The lesser ones will cower in fear
And those that spectate watch from a distance, and do not interfere
Let nature take its course
I have said enough, I await your feedback, for this poem was metaphorical and not literal… of course
And so, kindly, if you will... engage me, the author, in profound discourse.**
Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 4:37 AM UTC
dark’s peering into day,
wonder when the dew’ll lay;
time’s slowed as skies turn static,
least the hours are less erratic.
orange lamps glow
outside a misted window;
earthy rain’s falling hard
but fire’s lit and sky is starred.
sometimes mist deceives the eyes:
seen silent figures’ quick demise.
ocean spits over the pier,
almost as grey as the Wear;
lighthouse shines it’s steely beam,
illuminating the horizon’s seam.
heaven’s sealed with wrought dull iron,
far away seems unearthly Zion;
harvest moon’s not as vague:
illuminating an eight-legged plague.
crows spectate above and below,
you’d be surprised what they know;
change leers at every bend,
nostalgia seems an only friend.
the veil is thinner than before,
perhaps open is another door;
harvest season’s coming to an end,
fields of Elysium this way wend.
Oct 9, 2020
Oct 9, 2020 at 1:45 PM UTC
I orbit myself a
cyclical pattern
No Beginning No End
an elliptical motion
Enigma at Center
reflections of three....
me at the helm...
Space... time, gravity.
A singular pluralism of exponential eternity as infinitesimal minutiae
govern the ******
Not by lancing their eyes,
but insidiously
locking them in darkness,
like masses are meant to be.
But no... not me... as
my gift of perspective
has illuminated space ...
to spectate the rats
scrambling scrambling
to win the race.
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 11:34 PM UTC
Behold my face, so serene, I'm every part of the scene;
the crucified, the prosecutor as well the chorus.
When I breath my chests cage shows gaps ,the focus.
Here you are again my parade of pestilence my imbalanced state showing as ailments.
My sides tearing, stress penetrating my skin. Tragic,
Oh how the spear of reproach entangles and dives deep,
Piercing my belly and lets it noxious poison seep.
I beg 'No please do not twist', he then spoke of my dying dreams and loses to the soul.
The knots bind my thought and any move in conciseness has it toll.
The darkness strives for my sight but he knows how to not give it room.
The poisoned tip barley nearly missed my heart , I thought it the end, I relaxed too soon.
The tincture of doubt burns my open sensitive soft non-flesh.
Am I not one of the blessed, where is my place of rest?
The jury spectate from its pedestal, good for nothin but blaming.
His aim was never my life only that which makes it worth living.
His aim was the spark, my soul, the light at the end of the tunnel showing it all, so you don't stay down when you fall.
The earth knows me from My hands, feet and knees.
I rarely pray only spoke if it preceded an action, I fell a lot you see.
Now I walk with caution but my legs can barely take the weight.
My breathing and steps were heavy. you wouldn't have know my pain by my face
This has been my truth I believed it fate.
Early I realized wherever I sat was a throne.
Hubris led me to take on the woes and faults of the world as if they were my own.
The jury clamor great hollow truths, to lessen the sentences existence.
As much as they are valid and grand I see them only as excuses
"You will pain those who you love and love you"
"You will forsake the hopes and dreams in your view"
"You are good, only want the best for everyone "
Was it that ambiguity that lead to my current "wrong"
Seems if you aim to give others happiness you will never win
I know this but I still hurt: it's all starts and ends within.
Woe is me
May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 1:50 PM UTC
Death Reigns
Where to register you?
My dearest brother and sister!
Among the rebels or adherents?
Has this paradise so devolved?
Discharge of bullets now common,
Pactised length and breath freely.
Terrorists claiming to fight terrorists?
The license handed to oppressors.
Teens out to spectate the show,
Never to walk home evermore.
Souls lost and bodies bloodied,
Who bears the guilt of wanton slaughter?
Lust for violence in their hearts,
So easily to fire into a crowd?
No difference between agitators and innocents?
A people whose lives mean so little?
How do you justify the loss of humanity?
Blood shed and death reigns victorious,
Young lives lost... A future gone dark.
© Perveiz Ali
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 9:26 PM UTC
You don't like Clerks like I do.
You don't appreciate AFI like I do.
You don't like Adventure Time as much as I do.
You don't agree with me when I rave about awesome uses of the uncanny.
Speaking of uncanny, you don't like David Lynch movies the way I do.
You definitely didn't love Blue Velvet the way I love it.
You hated that movie.
You don't like crowded public places like I do.
Crowded places give you panic attacks.
A lot of things give you panic attacks.
You're anxious just as much as I am,
but about entirely different things,
and so it's very frustrating.
You like Super Smash Bros.
You like Super Smash Bros. more than you like Street Fighter.
I don't even know if you like Street Fighter at all.
You don't like fitness like I do.
You don't like martial arts like I do.
You don't want to do active things very often.
You don't like the same food I like.
You don't like to cook like I do.
You don't like to do what I like to do in bed.
When you do the things that you do, you do them genuinely and with an impassioned scowl I don't think you'd appreciate if you could see it from the outside.
When you do what you do, you define yourself, and your definition caught me at first -- then waned and does wane -- and catches me now, usually when I'm absolutely certain there's no more left to share.
When you do the things you do, I spectate, never letting on, that I'm entertained so much I want a bowl of popcorn and the lights dimmed.
Agreement means little when you do the things you do.
The similarity we do share is the orb in the heart of our human cellars.
We both know how badly our moms messed up.
I couldn't ask for anything more.
I love you.
Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 8:03 PM UTC
When I see you walking towards me
It is as if someone is filling my glass with wine,
And I am filled with pleasant anticipation
Watching it rise in the smooth, curving crystal,
And I am freed from space and time
And from the world of matter
To drift above us both in the music that I hear
And to spectate on everything that happens
As the pour approaches the brim,
So beckoning and so clear.
Sep 29, 2016
Sep 29, 2016 at 5:05 PM UTC
A song of beauty, a storm of sadness
Coexist in my heart
Neath the stone cold outer, it hurts and heals
Letting in gale after gale, not once the lock holding fast
Limerence and love collide, collide
Reality and fantasy alternate, tide after tide
In one life, we live a million different lives
In one life, we traverse a thousand miles
Knowing or unknowing, we touch many a life
Some left despondent, some with smiles
So much to do, so much to say
So much regret we carry, each and every day
So many lessons learnt, yet not one nigh
Not one nigh the art of saying goodbye
Clouded by hunger and bound by thirst
We see what we want to, unless coerced
Nostalgic, for the past we mourn and yearn
The present awaits us, undiscerned
Life passes us by, mutely we spectate
Gate-crashed by ebbs and flows, rendered desolate
We do things wrong, we do them right
Lost in the immense horizon, we lose sight
Whatever our secrets, we confide in the night
For, the moon and stars, hold wisdom erudite
Long after it is gone, we stay and wait
What holds us back, it never abates
All the will we summon goes awry
For never have we known the art of saying goodbye
Oct 4, 2020
Oct 4, 2020 at 1:46 PM UTC
I fell in love at 17,
19,
21,
22,
23
23.
You’re pretty
Beautiful,
In the way you
Speak
Walk,
Talk,
Look at me,
And all our friends
Who spectate
Agree.
What I need
Is to live, learn
And love
A time where
The only lies
I tell
Are to myself,
Alone
In the confines
Of a simple life.
It’s not fair,
To let you into
A mind,
Heart,
Life,
That may not be
Capable of truly
Letting your heart
Reside
Anywhere
Close
To
Mine.
It
Will end
With a broken heart,
Guaranteed.
I can’t
Even let
You start.
My apologies.
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 10:46 PM UTC
The mix and match of minds at hand with attitudes diverse
compel me to make comment that some may find adverse,
Some may find a reason to launch to fierce attack
Whilst others choose to spectate sipping beer and sitting back.
It seems we have proponents of a new unsubtle mix
Who breeze in with their verbal fangs and talons fiercely fixed,
Who at the slightest pretext take offence and go to war
Leaving innocence astounded, open mouthed, upon the floor.
Some here can handle criticism, others clearly can't
And some perceive this helpful and others simply shan't,
But our greatest single asset is this freedom flow of words
where opinions and convictions are divested and diverged,
Where compliments and attitudes should be taken in our stride
And barking, fierce rejoiners must, perhaps... remain outside.
Ruffled feathers agitate but few intend offence
Interpretations differ... but in truth, with common sense,
Accommodation can be made without hot anger's flame
So let's bury the invective and get on with Shakespeare's game.
M.
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 9:55 PM UTC
I would re-name the planets after galaxies in your eyes.
The stars finally know what it feels like to burn with envy.
There are constellations tracing the soft skin of your back.
Following dips and curves, I would draw maps with two fingers
of everything that matters.
Freshman science taught us about untouched miracles;
and just like that-
the ultraviolet cosmic phenomenon
fixed us to spiral arms in far-away planetary
nebulas, like the ringed Cat’s Eye.
The milky skies whispered
so that only we could hear,
"Heaven's dust will fall"
You feared last night you could hear the earth
cracking under the weight of the universe,
paralyzed with a crippling guilt
you'll only see the stars after they've died.
Neighboring nova would spectate
our telescopic wavelengths-
needing the prisms to reflect on
our kaleidoscope refractions.
No matter the efforts of a tangible spectrum,
one could never quite touch our frequency.
Between lazy and lively,
our whitecap love remained visibly invisible.
Our infrared vessel to space, raced clusters of runaway stars
past post-distant intergalactic bodies,
shooting through beasts, astrologies, gods.
We window shopped stellar bursts of dust clouds
above our clouds, a gravity shelter.
Meteors became our faithful companions
glowing gassy flowers of dusty debris.
The pressure (we couldn’t touch) generates combustion;
atoms gazing psychedelic pinks, greens,
soothing tones of aquamarines.
Ever since then you've been the glittering
black hole, heaving me in.
The only thing I’m able to taste is
the way your luminous Milky Way kiss
gives gifts of halos to terrestrial light rays.
But the flavor of your lips are the
battalions inspiring the star shining front lines-
Integrity a marathon taking laps
to the moon
to Pluto and back, the long way.
Blizzards of stars rewrite our language
in the moon beams,
guiding us past lost letters to Pluto.
How do you sleep among dancing stars
while the rest of the universe watches?
I made my home in your eyes
and you made your home in the sky.
Feb 17, 2018
Feb 17, 2018 at 10:06 PM UTC
I feel an enormous serenity - floating in some lover's limbo.
Spectate the scene in silhouette.
While bittersweet coffee cuddles my palette.
I can finally breathe.
So why do I feel like a survivalist?
On a long haul where perceptions hinder.
For now I stay floating.
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 9:42 AM UTC
The love hate relationship with food,
is so strong. It consumes your life. It is on your mind every second of the day. It becomes your only reason for it all. The only source of contentment, but also the source of your fear, your self hatred, you want it so bad but you abstain because you're scared of the guilt and the consequences you will subject yourself too. To earn your right to feel happy. You impulsively exercise to extremes. And your peers will applaud your dying body. You have to keep the routine because without it you are terrified of the free time without focus, because the cycle of hunger and hate will set in. Society has convinced you you're not worthy of love unless you are a ********* If my peers knew the state of my mind they'd ridicule me for not being manly. There are moments, everyday, when you spectate a battle of reason and anxiety in your head.
And all the while you're on a timer. Counting down as your heart rate slows, organs strain and cease, friends drift away from your inability to pretend you're ok, and you are left alone and family beg for your sanity, because you inconvenience them. Everyday, ending it all seems the best solution, but you know better than most, how hard you are to **** You're also a coward. If there is no intervention you will die, slowly, but assuredly you will. You have the final say.
Apr 25, 2020
Apr 25, 2020 at 4:34 PM UTC
*He knows no truth he who never lied
For how can he know what's lie or truth?
He who never died has never lived
For he who has lived has died
He knows not real joy if he never cried
For after the tears comes the reality of joy
Expect them who broke rules to abide
For unlike the meek,have nothing to hide
Those who have won will win again
For they know the reality of glory
While failures will fail again and again
'Cause they are already used to the story
Yes, fools they say never learn
Why?Wise men of today never teach
You don't play with fire you'll not burn
But we get to know by the boundaries we breach
Who know spectate,who don't are on pitch
Sometimes, hard to tell Bull from the *****
People learn the rules to know the cracks
And those are the point they hit to break them
Not guilty these days doesn't mean innocent
The boundaries of law can be stretched and bent
If you have to embezzle, take billions
Otherwise steal chicken and you'll be fed to lions*
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 5:14 AM UTC
There is a Japanese man
living inside me
Who walks bare foot across my soul
dazed and
mumbling to himself
In language i dont understand
He doesnt bother me
so i permit him
to sleep on my heart
spectate my dreams
and eat whatever
ego he can find
Although i can tell
he is not happy
here
Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 1:57 AM UTC
A spectacle to spectate try to relate
Young lad, riding in the back, of an automobile
He had my eyes, mouth, and voice he was real
Family accompanies his ride, looking happy but in strife
Wondering when they will die
His gaze strays outside, a car window helps his mind
Decide when he will die
Wishes of a faster
Journey here there after
Balance your sunlight with the sun's time left in the sky
A microcosm of being alive.
Just as he had gotten used to the ride
A window parallel caught his eye
Silently the glass violently tried
To contain all of what's kept inside
Her radiance transcended space and time
A momentary velocity decline
The boy's stoic face Illuminated by his fate
Could she teach him how to feel
She had her own eyes, her own mouth, her own voice
Her words were real
They both rode into the night with conversing eyes aligned
Their souls locked inside Made their way outside
Formed wings on each side As our speed did decline
Life ascended to heights past the sky so high
Stars so luminous, in their burning brilliance
Dancing close and slow, across the cosmos
Past the black veil of night
Immersed in the divine as passengers in flight
Redefining the sensual spectrum of existence
To realms exceeding mere mortal limits
Ears filled with enrapturing sounds
A majestic ocean crashing into the clouds
Eyes wide and so alive, hues blended to combine
Colors not yet realized, Only to disperse into
A wondrous barrage of bright
Bright, Bright, Bright warm breeze
It smiled at me
Washing over so subtle and serene
But as darkness does glow, and as curtains do close
The sky softly whispered to me in repose
Feel it all so deep in your bones
Take this all with you when you go
Love, Love, Love, will keep you above
Above all remember to take it slow.
Eyelids raised now lying awake
Your rhythm in my heart
Quintessence in my veins
I knew that life, would be yours,
and ours to take.
Apr 18, 2011
Apr 18, 2011 at 10:38 AM UTC
Prize fight ,love and war
War torn love, a constant battle
Plans to make a moment stand for something
Trying to show this is real
But no skin can touch until we heal
Wild eyes meet and gaze
How to touch is what’s on their brains
The hurt and guilt can not faze
Endless though, his mind a maze
Guilt grenades explode so fierce
Echoed crying Is all we hear
And even when they close their eyes
Guns still fire and friends still lie
Trauma strikes them deep,
in hopes to knock them from their feet
Blood still rains from passions sky
Birds all fall instead of dive
Barbed wire catches though of hope
Silent night steals smiles
And even when this war starts to slow
People shake in fear of more
All who are left to stand
Look around ,blood dripping from their hands
Terror shaking their core
Breathing starts to sore
But no sound brakes this new found state
Warriors turn to spectate
A new force begins to take its form
Wars scary presence hold them in their place
They know something new may await
The two lovers eyes well up
A prize fight has taken place
Have they won what feels so great?
Or is this a break..
War still leaves a bitter taste,
But they stand still afraid of haste
Silence fills the dark
The only light is their shared spark
Angry love twisted in fear
Has proven how they both feel
War still plagues, but hope is felt
And two hands reach out
And they haven’t fell
Feb 3, 2012
Feb 3, 2012 at 5:16 PM UTC